Marks
by Fantasy Lover Forever
Summary: The first Fred/George fic I've seen all the way through. Enjoy.


Okay, guys, so this is the first Fred/George fic I've uploaded. I know I haven't uploaded anything lately, so for those of you who were waiting, I hope you enjoy it. Comments are wonderful things. :)

_For Jess. Happy birthday, sweets. Love youuuuuu.

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"I'm not gonna write you a love song, coz you asked for it, coz you need one…"

George had to hold a hand over his mouth, pressing down firmly to prevent the laughter that threatened to spill out past his lips. He stood with a smirk, watching as Fred flitted about the room, singing to himself as he went.

He was amazed that even in the clumsiness they both possessed, Fred withheld a grace in his steps that made George want to sit and watch him dance forever. He was most likely the only one who thought that way.

Fred's singing, on the other hand… People knew that was good. Maybe not enough to go out and make millions of galleons, but he had the sweetest voice George could imagine.

But maybe he was just biased.

He had such fond memories of Fred's singing. Once, when they were younger, maybe six or seven, George had sprained his ankle jumping from a tree in the field near The Burrow. He had cried, of course, from the pain. As they waited for their parents to arrive, Fred sang to George. He could not remember now what the songs were, but the song choice did not matter. Fred had been there for him.

Or, just a few days ago, as they sat on their porch at dusk, his head resting in Fred's lap. George had let his eyes slip closed, lost in Fred's voice. He had felt the words of his song wash over him, reveling in the sincerity of the moment; his hand resting on Fred's knee, Fred's hands running soothingly through his hair as his voice swelled around them. It made George dozy, in all honesty, but he felt no urge to sleep. Sleeping, he would miss Fred's voice, his fingers sliding through the firey mess atop his head.

Fred had asked what was wrong when he let a sigh escape, and George shook his head, tugging his brother's down to capture his lips in a gentle kiss. Nothing was wrong. Everything was perfect.

Of course, the sex that later followed wasn't too shabby, either.

So when George walked into their room to see Fred dancing about happily, wearing his low-slung jeans and his hair swept up half-hazardly in a band, he made no move to disrupt him. He just enjoyed it. He watched as Fred spun, almost loosing his balance, his hair whipping about wildly.

No, George didn't think anyone else could fully appreciate Fred's dancing.

It had been a full ten minutes before Fred even noticed George's presence, starting. He did loose balance this time, an "Oi!" flying past his lips as he fell to the ground.

George laughed this time. "Nice balance," he jibbed.

"What the hell are you creeping in the corner for?!" Fred accused, rubbing his head.

"Watching you, what else?"

Fred's eyes slanted. "You could have told me you were there."

"Well yes, but then you wouldn't have continued would you?" he smirked.

Fred opened his mouth to retort, only to close it again. "Fine." he huffed, "Why were you watching anyway? It's so embarrassing…"

George rolled his eyes. "Because I'm going to make fun of you endlessly now. I was beginning to run out of material, and you just provided more. Ha-ha."

"Oh shut up, you tosser."

"Why don't you make me?" he resisted the urge to stick out his tongue like when they were younger.

That had saved him major injury, George realized, as seconds later he crashed into the wall, his jaw forced shut. Fred, having bolted from where he sat on their bedroom floor, was now pinning his shoulders.

Fred gave him a grin. "I'm sorry, did that hurt?"

"You git, of course it did!"

"So does landing your arse on hardwood."

George glared. "Fine, you got your payback, let me go."

"Maybe I don't want to."

"Fred," he warned, "Let me go."

Fred made no move to release George. "Quit being such a drama queen," he chuckled, leaning forward to press a kiss onto his lips. "It's your own fault you didn't warn me in the first place…" he mumbled against them.

George swatted lightly at him, not able to resist long before kissing back. Fred smiled, brushing his hand across George's cheek. "See, it's so much easier when you cooperate."

"If you don't shut up, I won't." George warned, his eyebrows furrowing at the sudden loss of contact.

Fred's laugh sounded as wind chimes might in the breeze. A soft beautiful tinkling. "So needy," he teased.

Before George had time to respond, his brother was once more occupying his lips, and with them his thoughts.

He slipped his arms around Fred's neck, tugging him closer. When was the last time they'd done this? Right, this morning. Yet, it felt like forever. George assumed that the always-in-the-mood mindset of pubescence would have left them by now, being as they were 17… But then again, he didn't want anyone else. He hadn't ever, really. This was something beyond just being a man, this was love.

He moaned in surprise, broken out of his thoughts to realize that Fred was at his neck, nipping the flesh softly.

"If you make marks, Mum will go mental."

"Oh, come off it. You know she accepts us."

"That doesn't mean she enjoys seeing me bruised up because of your affinity for my neck."

"You know you like it, Georgie."

He couldn't argue there.

"Fine, I hope you like how I look in turtlenecks," he grumbled.

"I like you in anything." Fred smiled up at him. A flush crept onto George's cheeks. He had known his brother, obviously, all of his life. Yet he never got used to the way he complimented him. It wasn't even the compliment itself; he wasn't like Harry, visibly uncomfortable almost every time someone said something nice.

No, George was completely fine with compliments. It was the way Fred made them that set his cheeks flaming, threatening to out burn his hair. His blue eyes revealing everything he said and more, a smile flashing across his perfect face.

George had once wondered if being so in love with someone who looked almost identical to him meant he was narcissistic. When he called his brother perfect, was he just bragging about himself?

He had later decided that no, he wasn't. They may look similar, true, but Fred had that spark George swore he did not himself possess. Fred had the eyes that could be stared into forever, making you forget everything.

Fred told him the same all the time. Of course, he didn't believe it.

"Hullooo, you in there?" Fred stood, an eyebrow quirking as he studied George's face.

George blinked. He tried to think of some explanation of what he'd been thinking, but came to no avail.

"I love you," he replied, finally.

Fred grinned, kissing him once more. He pressed him further against the wall, making George gasp at the sudden passion emanating from whom he liked to refer to as his better half.

Or at least in his mind.

George melted against him, letting his mouth part as Fred brushed his tongue along his lower lip. He hooked a leg around Fred's waist, tugging him closer.

Fred grinned, but made no comment.

Several minutes passed, George's hands buried in Fred's hair, completely exposed even while fully clothed.

He had to break away, taking a breath.

"Such a sudden display of emotion-" he began.

"I love you too, George." Fred interrupted, a smirk played on his lips.

"Well of course you do. I'm irresistible." He teased, knowing full well it was Fred who was the irresistible one.

Fred chuckled, nodding. "True."

And before he knew it George was being tossed onto the bed, and being snogged until he was breathless.

It wasn't until over an hour later that George looked in their bathroom mirror, Fred already singing away to himself on their bed.

"Bloody hell, Fred!" he shouted over his shoulder, hearing only snickers in way of response.

He _had_ made marks.


End file.
